


won't fall out of love

by inquilines



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-26 08:04:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/648373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquilines/pseuds/inquilines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Eve and Q had sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	won't fall out of love

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompts _fall_ and _scars_.

Q traces the expanse of Eve’s exposed stomach with his fingers. She lies back on the bed, a slow smile on her face, and he looks up, grins, because he knows what she thinks of him teasing again, sexual or otherwise.

There is a mark of red on her abdomen, an old gunshot wound. It’s a faded colour, ancient and almost gone, and Q’s forefinger skims over it absentmindedly. This one is Russia, Q thinks. And the one behind her ribs is Brazil, and the one above that is China.

“You’re always slow,” Eve tells him softly, jolting him out of his thoughts. “Thinking too much. I’m not in in the field any more; this is all old news.”

This is only the first time they’ve done this. They’ve been seeing each other, just stopping by each other’s flats, eating lunch together, and then there’s tonight. There’s _this._

“All right,” Q says, making an apologetic noise in the back of his throat. “Eve. Let me. I’ll.” He pulls away, uncertain. Does he unzip his trousers or keep going as he was? Does he pull off his shirt, tuck away his glasses, kiss Eve firmly on the mouth?

“Shh,” she hushes him, curling her fingertips in the mop of his curly hair. “Come on, then. If you don’t know. We can start at my scars.” On his hair, she rubs a pattern, and he sighs into her touch, his own fingers re-settling at her abdomen.

“In Russia, you were sent as a sniper,” Q says in an undertone, reciting the file he’d read. “But they caught you. It was a Sig Sauer P220.”

He doesn’t say, _You fell down in the snow._ The accompanying CCTV footage had showed her struggling with her rifle, pulling and pulling herself to safety, and then she’d still been able to make the kill shot, leaking so much blood. Eve had shot up the ranks, then -- promoted rather high up.

Q closes his mouth around the wound, sucking at the red skin softly. Eve shifts her body into his tongue, breathing out the first syllable of his real name, and Q moves downward, lips finding the stretch of skin above her knickers. It’s warm and smooth, and he teases her there, twisting kisses in lines, slants, shapes.

She’s trembling, minutely, and her fingers tug impatiently on his head. “Go on, Q,” she says. “Fuck me any way you like. Your mouth, your fingers -- I don’t care. _Q._ ”

His hands feel her through her knickers, a thumb swiping at the outline of her cunt. God, she’s perfect. Warmer here than any part of her he had touched, and he thinks the smoothness he brushes against is -- “You’re wet,” he says quietly, and he supposes he shouldn’t be surprised, because his cock is straining hard against his trousers, a bulge of fabric.

His thumb increases friction, the hairs of her cunt bristling through her thin knickers. His other fingers begin to move, too, massaging at her, and she murmurs an approving _Mm_ in response, legs splitting open wider, jaw slackening.

_More_ , Q thinks, _more._ He removes her underwear, looks at her cunt, lovely and swollen, slick and ready. He dips his head up above her labia and licks gently.

Eve lets out little noises, rumbling sounds of approval. Her come is moist at Q’s lips, a muted taste that pervades his mouth, and he continues to suck, faster, harder, and then Eve’s hips rise in a high arc, pressed flush against him. She gasps out loud, and he knows that she’s reached her climax.

He moves to shift his body up, so that they’re face-to-face level now. Droplets of sweat at her forehead are quickly kissed away, and they twine together, Q’s cock still hard against her waist.

Her heartbeat is thrumming at her chest, but it’s slowing, and Q smiles into the side of her face, happy to have sated her, happy that she’s _beautiful._

“That was nice,” Eve says, and he can feel her grin on his cheek.

“Yeah,” he says. “I -- yeah.” He pushes up his glasses; his erection is already beginning to die down. Then he says, almost shyly, “I do like your scars, you know.”

“Thank you,” she says with a straight face, but then a laughter bursts from her, and she’s shaking with mirth. “Q, you idiot, I didn’t know you romanticised action. I suppose that’s the result of being stuck behind a computer screen all the time.”

“You’re stuck behind a computer screen all the time now, too,” he points out.

“I think I’ll blow you under your desk later,” Eve says decidedly, and Q chokes, but doesn’t object tomorrow, when he feels her fingertips close over his knees.


End file.
